


But the One I Love

by woakiees



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Heartbreak, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, future sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woakiees/pseuds/woakiees
Summary: “But maybe you were the answer. Maybe you were the one thing that could take his pain away.”
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	But the One I Love

It hurt.

Poe couldn’t even begin to describe the pain in his chest, the relentless ache that just wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to free himself of it, no matter how hard he tried to feel anything else but the stabbing and the twisting of a knife in the place where his heart should lay.

Nothing helped. Nothing worked.

Not flying, not his precious droid. Busying himself with work and reports proved to be useless, because he couldn’t fucking focus on them and would only end up angrier with himself for screwing something up. Alcohol didn’t help. Not the burn as it slid down his throat and entered his bloodstream. Not the way his head would spin as his thoughts became clouded, subdued. The pain was persistent and maddening and Poe just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to be able to breathe again without his lungs feeling as if they were about to collapse.

He’d tried everything he could think of.

Well, almost everything.

He hadn’t tried sex.

Poe had messed around before, of course he had. But after being in a relationship that he thought meant something more to the both of them, only to learn that his love had been unrequited the whole time, the last thing he wanted was sex that was completely meaningless. There wasn’t a single person he could think to coax into his bed that meant anything to him, that could give him what he needed.

Except, that wasn’t entirely true.

He knew one person, and he knew that she’d be down for it. He knew that she would do anything for him.

He knew because you had told him so, numerous times. Had promised him that you would give anything to keep him smiling, to make him happy. He knew that included sex, the way your eyes had drifted down his body had told him that.

And Poe had thought about it before, having sex with you, taking you up on your silent offer. Taking you back to his quarters and having his way with you, spending the night claiming you, marking you as his. But that had been before he started seeing Lena, back when things were simple and the hole in his chest wasn’t threatening to swallow him whole.

But maybe you were the answer. Maybe you were the one thing that could take his pain away. He cared for you, he loved you, and he knew your feelings for him were the same. He knew they were genuine, unlike Lena’s, and he knew that the emotion you would pour into every single touch of your fingers across his skin would evoke some buried, suppressed feeling inside of him that he needed to break free from the pain. He needed you.

He needed you, but you were his best friend, and using you for some sort of cathartic release wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t right. Poe couldn’t ask that of you.

Except he knew you’d do it. You’d give yourself to him and you would make him feel _good_. He needed to feel good.

But he _couldn’t_.

And fuck, and that was you knocking on his door.

You always did the same short sequence of knocks before letting yourself in, just so he would always know it was you, and so that he wouldn’t have to get up if he was in bed or sitting at his desk.

Poe rubbed his hands over his face, sniffling from where he sat perched on top of his mattress, the covers strewn all around him. The sound and the sight broke your heart the moment you walked into the room. His bed only looked like that after a nightmare.

“It’s late,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly.

You walked further inside, your arms folded across your chest, your eyes staying locked on his frame. “And yet you’re awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“No,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you sat beside him. “You tried.”

“Let me rephrase. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“There we go.”

You patted his thigh — an innocent gesture that set his skin ablaze. He shifted slightly, and you didn’t think much about it.

“What about you? What are you doin’ up?”

“Got a little behind on some reports, but I gave up. Couldn’t focus.”

Poe tilted his head to the side, watching you carefully, nudging your knee with his. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, a sigh leaving your lips as you glanced up towards the ceiling. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and Poe decided to focus his eyes there, copying your movements, but for what he assumed was a very different reason.

“You.”

He blinked, leaning back a couple of inches, your admission catching him off guard. “Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

Your tone refused to give anything away, and he couldn’t at all tell where your head was at. He was just about to ask you for the specifics, to explain it to him when he was taken even further aback by your legs swinging over his lap, your hands on his shoulders as you straddled his hips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows though his hands found your waist, as if there were tiny little magnets drawing them there. It was effortless, automatic.

“We both need to sleep, and I know a few things we could do to make ourselves tired.”

Your sentence stopped, but your thoughts, your reasoning didn’t. Poe could see it in your eyes. He knew you better than he knew anyone, better than he knew himself and better than he had ever known Lena.

You knew he was hurting. You knew he was trying to learn how to deal with a broken heart, how to heal it — searching for distractions and ways to bury it, looking for a cure. It was impossible, but it was almost as if you had known what he was thinking about before you entered his room.

Poe knew you, and you knew him just as well.

And you would always be willing to give him any piece of you he might need. You were always so eager and willing to be whoever, whatever he needed, and right now, he needed a lover.

That was simple enough, easy to give him.

Poe loved you. You were his best friend and you loved him. There wouldn’t be anything for you to fake, nothing that you had to try and exaggerate for his benefit because it was all so real, and completely genuine.

The hard part was going to be holding yourself back. Giving him a glimpse without showing him too much. Reminding him that he was cared for and loved without letting him know that those feelings emanating from so deep within your soul weren’t merely platonic.

Poe loved you, and you were in love with Poe.

Not simple. Not easy.

But you’d make it be, force it to be. Mold the situation and yourself into something that couldn’t be complicated, because that’s what Poe needed.

He didn’t need _you_.

He needed a release.

And there you were, offering him deliverance and a night full of something so sweet, he had no choice but to let himself indulge.

The _perfect_ release, a sweet disaster, and entirely his for the taking.


End file.
